Hyde's Secret
by MistyMountainHop
Summary: Christmas is fast approaching, and Hyde can't shake the kiss he shared with Jackie on Veteran's Day. Mrs. Forman is throwing a Christmas Eve party, and she insists everyone participate in Secret Santa. Hyde pulls the wrong name from the hat. Subversion is his plan, but then he finds something in the woods that changes everything. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show _copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

**Author's Note: **My Christmas gift to everyone who reads my work (comics and fanfic both). Thank you!

**HYDE'S SECRET**

_Dec. 3__rd__, 1977. _

_Bud's Bathroom._  
**...**

Fourteen days, and the pressure still hadn't left Hyde's mouth. No matter how hard he brushed his teeth or gargled with mouthwash, Jackie's kiss remained on his lips like a bruise. That fight in Bud's bar a week back—the one that got Hyde grounded for four days and a black eye—hadn't healed his injury. With her unexpected but deep kindness, Jackie had broken him open, and he was desperate to shut himself down again.

It was Sunday, and Bud had gone to the bar for work. Hyde usually spent Bud's late-night shifts eating dinner at the Formans'. The other days, Hyde ended up cooking dinner for himself and his old man. Sometimes he felt like the chick of the house, but being Edna's son had taught him a few things. Plus, Bud couldn't cook for shit.

Tonight, however, Hyde got to enjoy Mrs. Forman's famous meatballs and cranberry sauce, a traditional Swedish dish from her grandmother. "It should be loganberry jam," Mrs. Forman said while serving, "but Red hates that, so I always switch it out with cranberry sauce."

Forman was eating beside Hyde but not in silence. He kept snickering.

"Out with it," Red said.

"Oh, it's nothing," Forman said. "I just can't believe it happened."

"_What?_" Red and Hyde both said and glowered at him.

"Come on, honey. We all like to laugh, too," Mrs. Forman said. "What happened?"

Forman stifled his snickers. "Mr. Burkhart ran over Jackie's cat."

"With the Lincoln?" Hyde said.

"He was backing out of the Burkhart's garage." Forman raised a meatball into the air then dropped it onto his plate. It splashed cranberry sauce onto the table. "Splat! Just like that. Guess I'm not the only cat-killer in Point Place."

He burst into laughter, and Red laughed, too, but one look from Mrs. Forman shut him up. "That isn't funny at all," she said. "That's awful! The poor girl!"

Forman wrestled his features into a more solemn expression, but laughter still broke through. "Oh, she was miserably today, crying over at Donna's. Cut into my make-out time—"

"Shut it," Red said. "I don't want to think about the Burkharts' dead cat while I'm eating—or what you like to do with the neighbor girl."

The table devolved into a cacophony of silverware scraping on dishware. Hyde had few feelings about Jackie's dead cat, but cats in general were all right with him. He liked Donna's first cat, Mr. Bonkers, before Forman killed it. He also liked Donna's new cat, Mr. Twinkle-Toes. Dumbest name ever for a pet, but whatever. Bob had named the thing.

Cats were independent, man, and earning their trust usually went the same as earning Hyde's—slowly and carefully. He'd never met Jackie's cat. It must've been hiding the one time he'd been to her place, during that "small, classy" party Kelso had turned into a full-on rager.

"All right, I know how to cheer up this table!" Mrs. Forman said. The plates were clean of food, and she clapped her hands. Then she pulled out one of Red's hats.

"Is that my Stetson?" Red said.

"Yes, now shush." She held the hat upside-down. "I've already invited the Pinciottis, Jackie, Michael, Fez—"

Red's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Boy with the accent. Steals bacon from our fridge."

"Damn it, Kitty. I told you never to let him inside this house."

Mrs. Forman smiled. "Too late!" and she held the hat high above her head. "Steven, I also invited your father. They've all accepted. We're having a Christmas Eve party! Yay!"

"A what-what party?" Hyde said.

"A Christmas Eve party, and we're doing Secret Santa! Everyone but the four of us have chosen." Mrs. Forman lowered the hat to Red.

"Chosen what?" Red said.

"The people we're buying a gift for. Those names are in this hat."

"Kitty, I don't want to—"

"Pull a name out, or you won't be the only Grinch in this house."

Red rolled his eyes but plucked a piece of paper from the hat. He read the name on it and cursed.

Mrs. Forman held the hat to Eric next, and Eric took out a name. He didn't seem fazed one way or the other.

Hyde's turn, but he said, "Mrs. Forman, I was thinking of skipping the holiday. You know, holing up in the, uh... _library,_ doin' some reading..."

"Nonsense. You're family, and you're spending it with us. Now choose."

Hyde shoved his hand into the hat. Only two names were left. He swirled the folded-up papers around then yanked one out. He unfolded the paper, and six letters drop-kicked his heart to his stomach: JACKIE.

"Forman," Hyde whispered, "trade ya."

Forman shook his head. "No way. Who'd you get?"

"Never mind. Red?" Hyde said.

"Sure." Red reached across the kitchen table, but Mrs. Forman slapped his hand.

"No trading," she said, "and no revealing to anyone else whose name you got. This is supposed to be fun! Now, all that's required is buying one main present for your person, wrapping it, and putting it under our Christmas tree. But feel free to give your person mini-surprises along the way. Build up the mystery."

"My person'll be lucky to not to receive a mystery kick up the ass," Red said.

Forman leaned in close to Hyde and whispered, "Well, that narrows his person down to me, Kelso, Bob, Bud, or Fez."

"If I had you, man," Hyde said, "I'd get you a pair of pillows to strap to your ass, just in case."

"Thanks."

Mrs. Forman clapped her hands again, this time not happily. "Stop talking about it! Or I won't cook for the party. We'll get take-out from that new Chinese Restaurant that opened in Kenosha, and Red, you'll have to drive there to pick it up."

"Yes, ma'am," everyone said and crumpled their pieces of paper.

* * *

"So, who'd ya get?" Kelso said. Everyone had gathered in the basement, like always after dinner, except for Jackie. Hyde had no desire to see her. If he was lucky, he'd never see her again, but the Christmas Eve party—and this damn Secret Santa crap—were against him. "I was hopin' to get Jackie," Kelso continued, but I got—"

"Shut up, dink," Donna said. "It's called 'Secret Santa' for a reason." She was sitting next to Forman on the ratty couch, and her hand played with the cuff of his sleeve. But her fingers grew smaller in Hyde's mind, and her bitten-down nails shined up into manicured-fineness. The sleeve they fiddled became Hyde's wrist...

_Crap. _He needed a freakin' drink—or a joint. Twice he'd fallen for a friend's chick. Twice, the chick didn't want him. _Screw 'em and leave 'em_ had been his policy, and it had to stay his policy. Caring for someone else, being cared for... the risk wasn't worth the reward.

"Damn your Amedican rules!" Fez shouted. He was sitting in the lawn chair. His arms were crossed, and he frowned. "I need help! The only thing I know about my person is that he liked to drink and doesn't like to drink anymore. Oh, and that he prefers ladies with tight asses."

"Hell, you got Bud?" Hyde said. "Cool, trade me." He held out his rumpled paper with Jackie's name on it.

"No. I will honor Miss Kitty by being your father's Secret Santa, but tell me what to get him."

Hyde scratched the back of his neck. He didn't know his own dad well enough to give Fez any advice. Hyde had been living with the guy only a few months. "Uh... some money to help pay the rent would work. 'Course, if you give it to him, he'll just gamble it away. So... I got it! Get him a pair of loaded dice."

"Your dad's gambling?" Forman said.

Hyde nodded. "Better than drinking. And he made last month's rent with one bet. Too bad he lost it with a second bet."

"Hyde," Forman said.

Hyde waved a dismissive hand at him. Bud was Hyde's problem, not Forman's—or the _Formans'_. He'd handle it. He made enough dough from the Fotohut to cover most of the rent. So whatever Jackie was getting from him this Christmas would be worth shit—'cause that was how he felt about her anyway, _shit._

* * *

The Fotohut's shelves were stocked with cameras, film, and flashbulbs. Other shelves had empty picture frames and albums. Hyde's after-school shift had ended. He used to work only on weekends when he stayed at the Formans', but now he had to earn living expenses. His grades were slipping past his hard-earned B-minus average. Food and shelter had become top priority, not writing English essays.

"Hey, Leo, man," he said, "could I have this?" He was holding the cheapest, flimsiest picture frame the Fotohut sold.

"Sure, man. Careful, though. That thing cuts flesh."

Hyde ran his thumb along the frame's plastic edge. It sliced his skin. "Perfect."

"What do you want it for?"

"Lame Secret Santa," Hyde said and stuck his bleeding thumb into his mouth. "Got any band-aids?"

Leo rummaged in his pockets. He pulled out two wadded-up tissues, five joints, and several, battered-looking band-aids still in their wrapping. "I hate paper cuts, man."

Hyde took a band-aid and applied it to his thumb. "I gotta give freakin' Jackie something for Christmas."

"Who?"

"Loud Girl."

"Oh, yeah. She loves you."

"No, she was usin' me to get over Kelso," Hyde snatched one of Leo's joints. "Could I have this?"

"_Mi casa es su casa. _Whoa, I know Spanish!"

"Not really, man. You just said 'My house is your house,' not, 'My stash is your stash.'"

"But you don't live in a house," Leo said. "You're livin' in an apartment."

"Yeah." Hyde smiled and patted Leo's shoulder.

* * *

Hyde carried Jackie's unwrapped picture frame in his backpack. The walk home from the Fotohut was a good half-hour. Having a car would've been nice, but he couldn't afford one, and unlike Forman, he had no parents to pass one down to him. The December night was dark and chilly, but Hyde knew the streets well. He didn't take his normal route to Sherman Avenue. Instead, he took a left onto Ashby Lane.

The alleyway was long and smelled like old feet, but it led to the Water Tower. This shortcut would take him forty minutes to walk. He needed a place for a private circle. Bud hated it when he smoked up in the apartment, so usually he held the circle at Forman's—but Jackie could be in the basement tonight. He had no wish to relieve Veteran's Day again, memories of how her tongue had coaxed more than just a hard-on out of him.

The streets of Point Place turned to dirt at his boots. He'd made it to the woods. The Water Tower rose high above him, and he stepped through some bushes, but something mewed below in the leaves. It mewed again, and a pair of blue eyes flashed at him. _Damn it, _a rabid animal was hunkered by leg. If he moved too jarringly, the thing could bite him.

"Hey," he said. "I'm just passing through, okay? Don't want your territory."

He took a half-step out of the woods, and the animal issued a ragged sound, like a muffled motor revving.

"Shit. Tell me you're not a—"

"Mrow!"

Hyde bent down in the bushes and spotted it, a kitten. It was a bundle of matted fur and dirt. He picked it up with one hand and said, "You're freakin' tiny."

But the furry thing's heart beat strongly against his palm, and its blue eyes were clear. Hard to tell what color its fur was though, because of all the dirt covering it.

"Where's your ma?" Hyde said. The kitten replied by purring, and he cradled it in his arm. The kitten's belly was a mess of dirt, too. "We gotta find her."

The night was already cold, and it would only get colder. Hyde searched the woods of the Water Tower for another cat, but he found nothing but a few squirrels. Maybe someone had abandoned the kitten here—or a host of kittens, its siblings. And this was the only one that survived.

He kept the kitten in the crook of his arm. The little thing didn't seem to mind. In fact, it was purring insistently, and its tiny paws stretched up to touch Hyde's chin.

"Damn it! Can't leave you here." He'd been abandoned himself, after all, and the Formans had taken him in. And then his dad came back. Maybe this kitten had a gambling addict, recovering alcoholic for a father, too.

* * *

Hyde brought the kitten to the Formans—more specifically, to Mrs. Forman. He'd hidden the kitten in his corduroy jacket and asked Mrs. Forman to join him for a private confab.

His old room was exactly as he left it, minus the Sex Pistols poster he'd brought back to Bud's. He pulled the kitten from his jacket, and Mrs. Forman burst into a grin.

"Steven, is this my Secret Santa present? Did you get me as your giftee?" She cuddled the kitten in her hands, but it didn't seem as happy as it had in Hyde's.

"No, I found it in the woods. Couldn't just leave it, but I got no clue what to do now."

"It needs to be taken to the vet." Mrs. Forman pulled up the kitten's lip and checked over its teeth. "It seems to have molars. It's probably weaned. I'll go to the Piggly Wiggly and pick up some cat food, and—oh! You'll need litter and a litter pan." She passed the kitten back to Hyde. "The Emergency Vet is an hour's drive from here, but your—" she gestured to the kitten, "what are you calling it?"

"Cat."

"That's no name for a kitten. Anyway, it seems well enough to survive the night. You should stay here with it, but don't let Red know its here. I'll pick up supplies. You need to clean that little kitty up and provide it with water. Use a small bowl—and put down some notebook paper for a temporary toilet. I'll be back from the store as soon as I can."

"But, Mrs. Forman—"

"I'll bring it to the vet first thing in the morning, 'kay?" She swept out of Hyde's old room before he could object and closed the door behind her.

"Great..." Hyde checked the room over for anything that could kill a ten-inch kitten. The kitten, meanwhile made a toy out of everything it could find—a crushed plastic cup, the tassels of the Formans' suitcases. It was a cute thing but a dirtball, kind of like him. "Okay, Cat," he said, "you gotta keep yourself entertained while I set things up."

He made a _de facto_ litter area out of notebook paper. He also crumpled a few pieces for cat toys before leaving. Forman was sitting in the basement and questioned him. Hyde didn't stop to answer, though, and bolted up the stairs. No one was in the kitchen, but Red's laughter reached him from the living room. He had to be watching TV. It was past nine at night, and Red would be too tired to wonder what the hell Hyde was doing.

Hyde returned to his old room with two bowls of water—one small and one large—and a roll of paper towels. The kitten, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Cat?" he said and looked under his cot. The kitten was cowering next to a large dust bunny. "Crap!" The word was a grunt, but he softened his voice. "Hey, kitty. I got some goodies out here..."

The kitten crawled from the bed, as if attracted to something in Hyde's tone. It now had a gray overcoat of dust on top of the brown dirt.

He grasped the kitten gently, and it began to purr. The bare bulb of the room shone in its blue eyes.

"Let's see what you really freakin' look like..." He dunked a wad of paper towel into the larger bowl of water and cleaned off the kitten's face. The kitten didn't seem to like this too much and squirmed, but Hyde was determined.

Many sodden paper towels, brown with grime, eventually revealed the kitten's true appearance. It had cream-colored fur with orange stripes. Its eyes were outlined with orange stripes, too, and resembled a pair of shades.

Hyde held the kitten to his face. "Well, Cat, looks like we're gonna be roomies for a night."

The kitten stretched out a small paw and batted at Hyde's curls.

A half-hour later, Mrs. Forman returned with an overabundance of cat provisions: five kinds of kitten food, litter supplies, a cat carrier, and more toys than Hyde knew existed for cats.

"Oh, I've always wanted a kitty," Mrs. Forman said and set everything up. The food was first, and the kitten ate like a champ. "That's a good sign. He has an appetite."

"He?"

"Yes, the kitten is a boy."

"How can you tell?"

"He has male parts, Steven—that will get snipped off." She began to laugh. "It's a good thing Eric's not a cat, or Red might have insisted—" She shut herself up. "Sorry, I'm just so giddy because of this kitty!"

She spent a moment watching the kitten eat; then she gave Hyde instructions, telling him how to scoop the kitten's litter. She also emphasized he should wash his hands after each time. They didn't know if this cat was infested with worms or other parasites.

"We'll probably need a stool sample for the vet tomorrow," she said, "so leave one in the box. I'll take care of it in the morning." She stroked the kitten's back, causing its tail to straighten up. "Oh, he's just so adorable. You cleaned him up well. You know, he kind of looks—"

"Don't say it—"

"Like you!" She erupted into more laughter. "He even has a tiny pair of sunglasses around his eyes."

Hyde sighed. "Could you watch him a minute? I gotta call Bud and let him know I'm stayin' over."

"Sure, sweetie."

Hyde went into the basement, passed Forman, and crossed over to his chair. He picked up the phone from the side table, but Forman disrupted his dialing by saying, "What the hell is going on? You and Mom keep running in and out of your old room. Are you two planning some kind of huge gift for me?"

"Yeah, that's it." Hyde dialed the last of the numbers of his apartment, and Bud picked up. Other voices murmured in the background. "Dice night?" Hyde said.

"Oh, Steven!" Bud said. "Yeah, me and some locals from the bar are playing a few. Where are you?"

"The Formans'. Gonna stay here tonight."

"You sure? The dice are hot. You should get in on this."

"Naw, gonna keep the rent money this month."

Bud laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm just playing my tips anyway. See you tomorrow."

"See ya." Hyde hung up the phone, and his stomach began to growl. He hadn't had any dinner. Eating cat food wasn't something he planned on doing, so he went to the door of his old room and opened it a crack. "Mrs. Forman?"

Mrs. Forman had some kind of mini fishing-pole in her hand. She was teasing the kitten with the plastic fish on the other end. "Yes?"

"I gonna make myself a sandwich. You okay here?"

"Kitty and your kitty are _purr_fect!"

Hyde groaned inwardly and shut the door. Cats were fine, but bad cat jokes he couldn't stand. Bob Pinciotti could never learn Hyde had a kitten.

* * *

Hyde spent that night in his old cot, and the kitten snuggled into the crook of his neck. The sensation was different but felt nice. He'd never shared his bed before, not like this. Every few hours, he'd wake, and the kitten would be in a slightly different position. Once, he woke with the kitten's chin planted on his cheek, and the kitten was purring.

"Heh," he said and pet the kitten's soft, furry back, "you ain't bad."

* * *

Mrs. Forman took the kitten from him in the morning. She was bringing him to the vet. Hyde wanted to go with her, but she insisted he go to school. He did, but all his thoughts were on the fuzzy, cream-colored thing. He'd never had pets as a kid, unless one counted the cockroaches that scuttled around his old house. He didn't plan on having a pet now, either. Mrs. Forman would probably take the kitten off his hands—at least temporarily until she found it a home.

"Would you watch where you're going?" The voice was shrill and belonged to Jackie. Hyde had knocked into her in the school hallway. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight, thick braid.

"No," he said and continued on his way, but where the hell was he going? History class... _right. _Four more doors down, but a tiny, strong fist grasped his arm.

"Listen, you," Jackie said, "just because nothing came of our date doesn't mean you have to be a jerk about it."

Hyde pressed his knuckles to his lips. That damn tingling was back, and he wanted to scrape it off. "Thought we were going back to our old thing, ignoring each other."

"We _are_, but you should still watch where you're..." She reached up to his cheek, and he flinched. "Hold still. What is that?"

He ran a finger down the side of his face. A scab as thin as floss had formed over his skin. The kitten must've scratched his cheek while he slept. "Nothing."

"Fine..." She turned in the opposite direction of him and took a few steps, but then she stopped and turned back around. "I don't want us to ignore each other, Steven."

"Oh, hell."

She walked up to him, too close. "I'm sorry, but just because I don't have romantic feelings for you doesn't mean we can't still hang out—like we did before."

"Jackie, what we did before consisted of you following me around, and me trying to shake you off. You got nothing I want, and the same's true for you—"

"But life is so fragile, Steven. You never know when someone you care about will vanish forever. Friendship is—"

Hyde laughed and stared at the dingy blue lockers lining the hallway. "We were never friends, man. Never will be, either. What we had was a one-way street, and I'm over it."

He withdrew from the conversation and from Jackie's presence, but her Veteran's Day kiss clung to him like sweat, and her words to him that night boiled inside his heart. _Damn, _he hated that girl.

* * *

Hyde returned to the Formans' after school and to his old room in the basement. The kitten was curled up on his cot, which was now covered in towels, but Cat stood up at his arrival. Hyde scratched its tiny face, and the kitten leaned into his fingers, purring. Then its tiny tail stuck up happily as he petted its back.

"Yeah, I missed you, too," he said, something he'd never admit aloud to a human.

A paper bag and a note were waiting for him on the bureau. The note was in Mrs. Forman's handwriting, and it said:

_Steven,_

_According to the vet, your little kitty is about seven-weeks-old. Its blue eyes should turn green within another week, but that's not important. Fortunately, he had very few fleas, and they were taken care of with a flea dip. Unfortunately, the little kitty's fecal test showed he has intestinal worms. So washing your hands after each time you touch him is vitally important._

_The good news is that we got a dewormer, which you'll have to dose him with every day for—well, nine days now since he got his first dose at the vet. Then after another week, he'll have another ten-day round of dewormer. Then a week after that, his stool will have to be tested. Hopefully, he'll be worm-free then._

_I will pay for all vet visits and medications, so don't worry. But you'll have to keep the kitty with you at your father's. Red can't find out about it. All I want in return is visitation rights._

_The dewormer is inside the paper bag. I'll drive you, the little one, and all his supplies to your father's when I get home from work._

_Love,_

_Mrs. Forman_

Hyde put the note down and stared at the kitten. It was reaching up to the paper bag and cautiously batting at it. He had three freakin' weeks with this kitten... then what?

* * *

The next two weeks consisted of Hyde skipping lunch at school to check in on the kitten. Bud was cool with the cat as long as it stayed in Hyde's room, which Hyde covered in towels and old sheets. He couldn't risk being infected by its intestinal worms.

Keeping the kitten a secret from his friends wasn't an easy task. He didn't let anyone hang out at Bud's. He'd promised to give them a tour once he moved in, but that never happened. And Hyde often skipped going to the basement to take care of the kitten. Getting its cream-colored hair off his black shirts was almost impossible, too, so he wore only light-colored shirts.

But all the struggles were worth it, man, when he got home. Cat entertained him while he did homework. It often used his pencil as a toy or to gnaw on. Cat didn't meow too often, but that purr... He grew addicted to its sound and the rumbly feel beneath his fingertips. He also enjoyed their nightly routine together. Cat would knead Hyde's blanket for a few minutes before cuddling into his face or chest...

It was the least lonely he'd felt in his life.

Cat hadn't known how to jump at first. It used its tiny but sharp claws to crawl onto Hyde's bed, but when its eyes turned green a week later, it learned how to leap onto every surface—Hyde's shelves, his stereo. Sometimes, Hyde would find his records knocked to the floor. Somehow, Cat's tiny jaws had yanked his albums free from the shelves and tossed them. He didn't mind, but one thing was clear: Cat couldn't stay confined to Hyde's room for the rest of its life.

One late weekend afternoon, Hyde's friends barged into Bud's apartment. They knocked and knocked on the front door until Hyde was forced to let them in. They piled into the living room—the whole group—Forman, Donna, Kelso, and Fez—and demanded to know what the hell was wrong with him. Why had he "abandoned" the basement and the circle?

"It's temporary," Hyde said and went to the kitchen. It was an open one, attached to the living room. "We don't have beer in the fridge, sorry. Bud's dry."

"So what's going on?" Forman said. "Are you working overtime or something?"

"Something like that." Hyde brought out a six-pack of Coke. He grabbed one for himself from the plastic ring, and half his friends did the same.

Kelso, however, roamed around the living room, checking it out. "So these are your new digs, huh?"

Hyde pointed to the radiator by the window. "Yup. That's where Bud plays dice."

"Oh, I know why Hyde has been hiding," Fez said. "It's because of Secret Santa."

Hyde hopped up onto the kitchen counter and drank his Coke. "Uh, no."

"Come on, Hyde, don't be shy," Donna said. "I've been getting loads of presents at school from mine." She winked at Forman.

But Forman's face grew as red as his Coke can. "You have?"

"Yeah. Small things, but things I like. Wait, are you telling me it's not—"

"It's not me," Forman said.

"It's not me, either," Kelso said. "I got Bob."

He was getting too close to Hyde's bedroom door, and Hyde leapt off the counter. He dashed in front of Kelso and grasped the doorknob. "Room's off-limits," Hyde said.

Kelso looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"Ooh, I know why." Fez had a lollipop in his mouth, but he pulled it out and tapped it on his lips. "He's turned his room into a shrine."

"To who?" Donna said, laughing.

"To one Jackie Burkhart," Fez said.

Hyde scowled. "Get outta here, man."

"Yeah." Kelso nodded. "We all know their 'date' fizzled, and she's busy pining over me again—as it should be."

"That's the story they both told you," Fez said. He stuck the lollipop back into his mouth, and the stick bounced while he spoke. "The story sweet Jackie told me, however, is very differe—"

Hyde darted across the living room, intending to frog Fez into silence. Hyde's sudden movement, though, seemed to be enough. Fez clammed up, but Forman said, "Oh, God, did you and Jackie do it in her car?"

"No!" Hyde said.

"Wait," Kelso stepped away from Hyde's bedroom door, "you've got Guilty Mouth."

Hyde covered his lips. "What?"

"Yeah, I didn't know what it was either 'til Jackie told me," Kelso said, and he walked up to Hyde. "Remember the first time I cheated on her, by Frenching Pam Macy? After Jackie found out about that—but took me back—she always studied my mouth. She could tell whenever I'd been kissing Laurie." He poked the back of Hyde's hand. "'Michael,' Jackie'd say, 'your mouth looks guilty. Why does your mouth look guilty?' I played it off, but..." he pried Hyde's hand off his mouth, "yup. There it is."

Fez, Forman, and Donna all stared at Hyde's mouth, but Hyde had no idea what they were seeing.

"You kissed her," Donna said.

Forman grimaced. "With tongue!

Fez twirled the lollipop between his teeth. "With _lots _of tongue."

Kelso shrieked a gasp. Then he shouted, "I hate you!" but instead of lunging at Hyde, he raced back to Hyde's bedroom door and thrust it open. "Where's the shrine, huh? You got naked pictures of her—or her panties?"

"No, you moron!" Hyde tried to shut the door, but it was too late. Cat scampered into the living room, tail up, and mewed.

"Is that..." Forman began.

"A kitten?" Donna finished.

Hyde scooped Cat into his arms and petted its tiny, cream-colored head. "Yeah."

Everyone but him burst into laughter.

"Get bent," Hyde said and returned to his room with Cat. He closed and locked the door behind him. His friends continued to laugh outside, but Cat needed to be fed.

Hyde opened a fresh can of cat food, and he watched Cat's tiny teeth and pink tongue devour the brown gunk. "Better you than me," he said, but Edna had fed him more than a few meals that looked and smelled worse.

He rejoined his friends a little while later. They all questioned him about Cat's origin except for Kelso, who said, "Did you like the kiss? Did you wanna nail her afterward?"

"I'm not answering crap," Hyde said.

Then Forman tossed him a random, "Are you Donna's Secret Santa?"

"No."

"Damn!" Forman's hands balled into fists, and he glared at Donna. "Who the hell is tempting you?"

"Guess we'll find out at the party next week," Donna said. "Hyde, are you actually gonna show up?"

"Yeah, now get outta my house."

"Technically, it's an apartment," Fez said.

"Whatever. Get out."

"What, no circle?" Forman said. "I figured, as long as we're here..."

"Circle later. Not here. Go." Hyde ushered everyone toward the front door. He needed them to leave. They knew too many of his secrets, and he had to regroup.

Everyone filed out into the hallway except for Kelso. "You can't have her, Hyde," he said. "Jackie and me may be over, but I had her first, so she's tainted now. You can't touch her ever again!"

"Didn't wanna touch her in the first place," Hyde said and shoved Kelso out the door.

The truth was, though, Hyde wished Jackie hadn't touched _him. _She'd invaded his body like the worms in Cat's intestines. Only Cat would be free of them after a second round of dewormer. Where was Hyde's dewormer, man? What the hell could he suck down to get Jackie out of his system?

* * *

Mrs. Forman had gone all out to decorate the living room for her party. Pine-and-berry wreathes adorned the walls, and the couch was covered in silver trimming. A huge Christmas tree was nestled in the corner, festooned with what had to be historic Forman-family ornaments.

The most festive Christmas Hyde remembered growing up was the one where "Uncle" Strangeman was tangled up in twinkling lights. He was sharing that story with Bud now, while they sat together on the Formans' carpeted stairs.

"Oh, your mother," Bud said, laughing. "At least she wasn't lonely on those Christmases. I really screwed her over, Steven."

"Yeah..."

"You, too." Bud tousled Hyde's hair, but Hyde was too old for such a gesture, and he flinched. "I'm sorry. I hope this Christmas is better."

"So far, so okay," Hyde said.

But not for everyone, apparently. Forman and Donna were by the Christmas tree. He was foraging through the presents while Donna yelled at him to stop. Forman pulled out a small gift wrapped in shiny pink paper.

"Here it is," he said. "The gift from your Secret Santa. Finally, we'll learn who the culprit is trying to steal you from—"

"It's from _me, _you idiot," Jackie said. She was outfitted in a red dress that Hyde paid too much attention to. It nipped in at the waist, a perfect place to put his hands and draw her in for another sanity-destroying kiss.

"You?" Forman's grip on the pink gift loosened, but Donna caught it. "Donna got a present every day at school for three weeks. You can't seriously be telling me _you _got her all of those. Jackie... you don't give. You take."

Jackie sighed, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling. They were gleaming wetly. "Look," she said, and her voice shook, "God took something very important from me a few weeks ago, okay? It was time, I guess, but... I've just lost so much this year, and Donna's really helped me through it. She still is, and I wanted to thank her." She sighed again, as if it would dry the tears pooling in her eyes. "She's a really good friend, Eric. You're lucky to have her. So stop doubting her."

She turned to leave, but Donna pulled her into an embrace. Jackie skittered away afterward, probably to cry in some private corner.

"Crap," Hyde said. He'd seen and heard everything from his vantage point on the stairs. "Listen, Bud, I gotta do something."

Bud patted Hyde's knee. "Sure thing, son."

Hyde climbed down the stairs and went to the tree. He rummaged through the presents until he found his lazily-wrapped picture frame to Jackie. As usual, he'd used newspaper. He snatched it up and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Steven?" Mrs. Forman pulled a fresh tray of Christmas cookies from the oven. She was about to decorate them. "We're going to open the Secret Santa presents in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I'll be back in a sec."

He rushed down the stairs to the basement. Then he shut himself in his old room. He removed the newspaper from the picture frame carefully. He'd need to reuse it, but he cut his finger on the frame's cheap plastic again. That was freakin' twice already.

_Damn it, _he could be a passive-aggressive bastard when he wanted to. He'd hoped Jackie's hands would get sliced up, same as she'd done to his innards. But he knew now that she was tornado of confusion. The way she'd sounded upstairs, he recognized the undertone. It was chaotic pain, the same he'd experienced each time his parents had run off. Whatever hell Jackie was going through, he refused to add to it.

A few minutes later, his new gift to Jackie was wrapped firmly in the newspaper. Instead of putting it beneath the tree, however, he sought her out. The gift was no thicker than a folded piece of paper—because it _was _a folded piece of paper—and he didn't want it to get lost. She was sitting alone on Formans' organ bench, and he tapped her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "What do you want?"

"Here." He handed her the gift.

"'To Jackie,'" she read from the attached note, "'from your Secret Santa.' _You're _my Secret Santa?"

"Yup. Ain't fate a bitch?"

"What is it?" she said. "A bunch of itching powder?"

"I'm not Casey Kelso."

She didn't react but opened the newspaper wrapping. The folded-up note slipped onto her lap. She read it to herself silently; then she said, "My present 'isn't ready yet'? Is this some scheme to trap me in your grubby apartment and humiliate me somehow?"

"Man, you really don't trust me."

"Why should I?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Prom night. Zen. Jail. The day after you totaled Kelso's van. The Formans' Veteran's Day barbecue..."

She huffed a breath. "But those were all before we... you know. You hate me again."

"Nope. Ain't your fault you didn't feel anything, man. A body feels what it feels, right? Mine felt crap, too. Doesn't mean we gotta be crap to each other."

She was gazing down at her lap, at the note.

He slid a finger beneath her chin, "So..." and gently lifted it, "we got a meeting at my place on January Fifth, Friday after school?"

She smiled weakly but genuinely. "Sure."

* * *

A light knock on his front door spurred Hyde into action. He thrust his shades onto his face and took a deep, steadying breath. The last two weeks had been a long, tough goodbye, but it was for a good cause. He opened the front door and invited Jackie inside Bud's apartment. She glanced around and seemed unimpressed.

"We're lucky we have furniture," Hyde said. "Bud likes to toss dice."

"Oh." Jackie combed fingers through her curled hair. She appeared nervous, but Hyde ignored all impulses to take her hand. Freakin' irony. Finally, he wanted to hold hands with her, and she wasn't interested. "My uncle has a gambling problem, too," she said, "which is why Daddy cut him out of the family. So where's my present?"

Hyde clenched his jaw. Yeah, she definitely didn't like being here—either in Bud's apartment or with him—but he directed her to his bedroom door. He'd tied a Christmas ribbon onto the knob.

She stared at it. "You got me a door?"

"No."

He let her into his bedroom. A ball of cream-colored fur was lying on top of his bed, and he roused it with a pet. Cat peeked up its head and yawned.

"Oh, my God," Jackie shriek-whispered, "she's so cute!"

"He," Hyde said and picked Cat up. He cuddled the kitten in his arms, as he'd been doing since the beginning, and scratched its cheeks. A deep purr kicked up in its throat and belly.

She planted a hand over her heart. "Aww!

"His name is Cat." He passed the kitten into Jackie's waiting arms, and she cuddled it against her chest. She knew just how to handle the kitten. Cat's purring didn't stop.

"Is this—is this your present for me?" she said. Tears had fogged over her eyes.

"Yup. He's almost three-months-old. He's vaccinated, deflead, de-wormed. He'll have to be neutered, but keep the damn thing inside, would ya? And away from Kelso. Don't want Cat to kick the bucket early."

"This li'l boy's not ever going outside," Jackie said, "or near Stupid Michael." She held the kitten in front of her face, as if to get a better look at him. Then she brought Cat back to her chest for more cuddling. "Oh, Steven—I love him!"

Hyde risked petting Cat while the kitten was in Jackie's arms. "I got one caveat, though."

Her bright grin faltered. "What?"

"I get visitation rights."

"You can come over whenever you want."

"Thanks," he said and nuzzled his lips in Cat's fur. Finally, the aching bruise of Jackie's kiss had faded.

"You're so cute with him, Steven," she said, and Hyde withdrew from kitten and chick both. Cat's purring had grown louder, and she stroked its ears and back. "I always knew, deep down, you had a gentle soul. Thank you for showing it to me."

He rubbed the nape of his neck and gazed down at his boots. He had nothing to say to that.

"He needs a better name, though," she said. "'Cat' sucks."

He chuckled. "Whatever. You should hear what Fez calls him."

"Eww!" She maneuvered the kitten to cradle it like a baby. Cat was used to that from Hyde, so it didn't struggle. "Look at his face, those orange stripes around his eyes... He's got sunglasses on—"

"Don't say it."

"—just like you!" She giggled. "And—oh! I know what his name is."

"What?"

She didn't answer at first. She brushed her lips against Hyde's sideburn, like she had on Prom Night. The kitten was purring between their chests, and she finally said, "'Shade'. I'm gonna call him that."

"Shade," Hyde repeated. The name felt good on his tongue, just like Jackie's kiss on Veteran's Day— just like the kitten purring between them. He was open enough to let it all in, and...

"Oh, you hate it," she said and pulled away.

"No, man. No." He scratched beneath Shade's chin, and she stepped closer to him again. "I dig it."


End file.
